Link
by Sardonic Grin
Summary: In Ocarina of Time, the Hero of Time, Link, lost out on seven years of his life. Waking up to find Hyrule in a state of destruction, darkness, and death. What if Link, a follower, ignored his destiny and went back seven years to live out his life.


_Authors Note: Okay, apparently the last attempt at uploading this went all straight to hell. Thank you for the warm re-welcome. Anyway, here is attempt number two. This is a joint story between me and a friend of mine. My chapters will have my username, his will have the name "Gurren" attached to them._

**Link**

**I- Sardonic Grin**

The howling wind ripped through the silence of the mock-night; whispering against the cracked stone of forlorn buildings. The Castle Town laid in a desolate heap of rust and rubble- life, light, hasn't been seen in seven long years. Not since the boy clad in green attire walked through they heavily ornate doors of The Temple of Time. Not since the echoing hooves of the white horse ran from castle, from the town, from the people; followed by the ominous howl of laughter from the Dark King himself. Following the laughter came flames hot as hell- red with anger- that drowned all of Hyrule fiery damnation.

In seven years, the population of Hyrule was drastically cut in half. Those who didn't flee were either turned into the monsters that now guarded the withering cobble-stone streets of Castle Town, or became unwilling followers to Ganondorf's new world order. Those who survived went about their business almost in the same fashion as the re-dead - standing, aimlessly moaning for a cure, a hope. A sense of light amongst the darkness. Was it fair to make them wait seven years? Was it fair to make them watch the land they called home turn into a Hell on earth? Watch loved ones, friends, pets, protectors become ashes? Perhaps those in charge had their reasons for keeping hope so far away. Maybe it was all part of the plan - the destiny.

The sound of horse hooves echoed through the streets. Followed closely by rampant, angry, footsteps that dared to travel into the darkness of what was previously Hyrule Castle Town. The zombie-like figures broke from their mindless moaning and unleashed a horrific. high-pitched scream that cut through the tense fog and wind with sudden desperation. Each one of them turned towards the figure, making slow, sad, strides towards him. But the man- a boy merely yesterday- unsheathed his sword as if not fazed by the hopeless screams coming from the masked dead. With a strike, the glistening blade tore through brown muscles stretched over brittle bone, sending them to the floor in a pile of diseased tissue and limbs.

Without a second glance, and without sheathing his sword, this man dressed in green continued his mad glide towards the decaying stone structure known as the Temple of Time. Over the horizon, dark clouds blanketed the once cerulean blue skies, and Death Mountain unleashed an angry roar deep from within it's tortured belly. The wind picked up, whipping the green tunic against the white battle-leggings of our hero. Up the steps, he made his slight ascent, thinking briefly how yesterday those steps seemed so much bigger, and less gray.

The inside of the temple was a much different scene. The light was piercing and fresh, causing the man to close his blue eyes for a few seconds to adjust to the sudden change of lighting. A soothing hymn danced against the white stone structure, almost attempting to calm the hero and remind him of his duty- his destiny. Instead, he ignored the shattered hymns of old men, and crossed the tiled floor- his boots making a miniature tapping noise that drowned out the song. The hum of the three spiritual stones called out to him, like outstretched arms trying to grab his tunic and shield, beckoning him to return.

But he ignored the imaginary pleas with an almost blank expression on his face- if it wasn't for his eyes, that betrayed him. A look of sadness masked by anger.

The ethereal humming and the hymns died in the Chamber of Time; the last time he was here, he was seven years younger. Seven years older, and he was none the wiser. The mind of a child was trapped in an adult's body, and was screaming for some kind of retribution.

There was almost no hesitation when he took his newly acquired sword and plunged it into the pedestal. Still his expression was cold. Blue light whirled around his body; the sound of whispering wind traveled through his brain- and he remembered how it first sounded when he was a child. Curious. Beautiful. Now it sounded like the desperate howling from outside. Worrisome. Cryptic.

His eyes fell closed. Acceptance.


End file.
